Keep Me Awake, Better Than Caffeine
by MonsterDonkey
Summary: "I see a coffee shop as a magical place. Because it's.. like a nodal point in a network of social lives. The atmosphere, all of these different kinds of people, how everything comes together- it always reminds me why and for who I write. It's an inspiration and motivation at the same time. What could be more magical?" AU. Brittana. Summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

Keep Me Awake / Better Than Caffeine

Summary  
Santana becomes a barista in her uncle's coffee shop called 'La Planta' at his desire. Actually she hates the job, but her opinion about it changes, as soon as she meets the regular customer Brittany. She's a curious journalist with a wanton imagination and has a strange effect on the Latina. They become friends – and soon even more. But her delicate project she's working on causes a lot of trouble and perilous situations. So they have to ask themselves: Is their love strong enough to go together through the imminent danger?

AU. Brittana story / Pucktana brotp / Slight side of Faberry / Other pairings possible

A/N:

Today is a day of my firsts: My first Brittana story, my first fanfiction written in English and the first fanfiction I published via my new account. :)  
Therefore I'll appreciate every review, which tells me if my language is okay and the story interesting enough to keep on writing and uploading new chapters. I won't be able to update new chapters soon, since I have to study for my final exams and it takes a long time to correct my mistakes (If someone is interested in becoming my Beta, I'll be really happy..)

I hope you enjoy reading my story. Thank you for giving it a try! :)

Disclaimer:  
I don't own anything, everything is made up and if any of the invented characters show a resemblance to someone you know in real life – fuck it. I don't have a social life and therefore I probably don't know anyone of your social environment, so the chance I did it on purpose is almost zero. Have a nice day. ;)

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Thick snowflakes fluttered down onto the roofs of New York City. Led by a frosty wind, they danced through the air to a silent melody and hounded the citizens through the town, until they disappeared behind closed doors to escape from the bone-chilling cold. A storm was coming up, but no one seemed to care. People hid in crowded cafés or in their homes, enjoying the safety and pitying those still outside fighting against the coming winter.

Santana Lopez was one of these poor souls, still walking down the snow-covered streets. Several snowflakes fell into her long eyelashes and blocked her view from time to time. Beneath her feet the snow scrunched, and the young woman crinkled her nose at the sound of it. She was freezing, but the anticipation she felt right now made her feel cozy and smooth. She was on her way to the 'La Planta', the coffee shop her beloved uncle owned. It was located in a side street and was never as overcrowded as certain chains of coffee shops, which could be found in almost every shopping mall and high streets, (and therefore had no charm and personality!) However, the 'La Planta' was still well patronized, but one's privacy was always ensured. That's why Santana loved this place.

When she arrived and pushed the glass door open, a cold breeze tried to follow her inside, but it was instantly cut off by the heat of hot drinks and the warm chatter of customers. The smell of coffee and old leather furniture enwrapped and welcomed her, causing a small smile on her rosy, jittering lips. A few people eyed her, as she stepped to the centre of the venue, but quickly lost their interest in her and returned to their former activities.

As usual people were chatting, sometimes a newspaper crackled and in the background the coffee machine made its buzzing sounds. Santana spotted her busy uncle behind it. She searched for his eyes, but he was too focused on taking a customer's order to notice his niece. So she decided to get in line and wait.

When it was finally her turn, she couldn't wipe the grin off her face. Ricardo Lopez turned around to take the next order and his face lit immediately up. "Sobrina!" he exclaimed with glee, as he walked around the bar. Before he got to Santana, he tapped a young man on his shoulder, "Sam, could you do me a favour and take charge of the counter?" Sam was one of the baristas of the coffee shop. He was a tall blonde with shiny grey eyes and a muscular body, but his most striking features were definitely his huge pink lips. When Santana had noticed them for the first time, they reminded her of trout. She liked trout, but only when they were boiled and called 'trout au bleu'. At least Sam seemed nice though.

"Sure, Ric." he said with a gentle smile and put the broom he held in his hands away. On his way to the cash register he greeted Santana with a nod. She smiled in response, but didn't care too much.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" Ricardo said putting his large, hairy arms around the shorter woman. He was a fine man. Okay, he didn't look fine. In fact, Santana thought he was pretty ugly. His age played around his eyes and grey hairs started to shimmer through his thick black curls, which were always stuck to his sweaty forehead. His face was chubby as was the rest of his body- and the brown apron he had to wear everyday didn't help enhance his figure at all. However, Santana adored her uncle. He had always been a hard-working man who did everything for his family. Sometimes she believed the only reason his heart kept beating was his love for the people around him. Even for Santana, who was his youngest niece.

"Yeah, me too!" she grinned and hugged him back. "I can't wait to hear the 'big news'!"

Ricardo stepped back and rubbed his hands over her shoulders. Proudly he took a closer look at her and whispered "I still can't believe you became such a strong and beautiful woman. Just like your mamà." Santana blushed at his words and smiled shyly.

"You tell me every time..." she laughed nervously and tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear.

"Because it's true!" The old man carefully patted her cheek, as if he was afraid Santana could break any moment. "Come on, let's go upstairs and warm you up. And then I'll tell you about my plans." He turned to the young barista, who was struggling with a tight drawer. "Sam, you'll manage that? I'll be back soon, got some Lopez-business to do."

"Don't hurry, boss. Everything's in control." Sam assured him with a confident grin, covering the drawer with his body. After mouthing 'good boy' the old Latino turned his attention back to his niece and pulled her eagerly towards the storage room, which led out to the hallway.

"Follow me, Sobrina, follow me." His voice was filled with pride and excitement and Santana couldn't stop herself from finding it adorable. Ricardo was in his sixties and that fact that he still showed so much enthusiasm made her incredibly happy. At least in his mind he would stay young. She walked behind him out of the room, thinking about what his 'plans' might be.

* * *

Piercing blue eyes followed her, until she disappeared into the storage room. The young woman sitting in the corner of the coffee shop was the only customer who hadn't lost their interest in the young Latina. Something about her had caught her attention and twisted her thoughts back onto her. She was well hidden behind the huge screen of her laptop, so she hadn't been caught leering. And that was good, since she felt pretty uncomfortable at the moment.

Thoughtfully she tapped her bottom lip and stared at the closed door. A change was coming, she could feel it in her bones. And she knew it had something to do with the woman, who was obviously here for Ric. The need to find out what was going on burned in her chest. She couldn't fight it, curiosity was in her nature. At least, she thought that explained this strange feeling. She grabbed her coffee and took a large sip. Yes, something was going to happen. And she would find out what it was. That was a promise she made to herself.

The tall blonde leaned back and casually crossed her legs. "Nice to meet you..." she muttered with a coy smile. _Santana Lopez_.

* * *

"Wait! What did you say?" Santana narrowed her eyes in disbelief. Her uncle was still beaming at her and squeezed her hands.

"I said- I want you to work in my 'La Planta'! How does that sound?"

Santana took her hands away and shook her head. "No, Ric. Definitely not. I can't!" she said, jumping up off her chair and starting to pace in the Lopez' kitchen. "I mean, look, I really love this place. But I already have a job and I can't spend more time working! I... I- I have to study, and-"

"No! That's not what I meant!" he interrupted her, also jumping up from his seat, hissing at the pain in his back. "Santana, I would pay you like any other employee and you can choose your working time as you wish! You just need to quit your other job and- "

"Tío, I really appreciate your offer, but..." Santana didn't know how to finish her sentence. In actual fact, her uncle's idea was pretty great. She hated her current job, chamber-maid in a dubious hotel, and she liked the idea of working with him, but she didn't feel comfortable with what came with being a barista, or being a waitress. She wasn't a very social person, especially because she often felt like an outcast. A large dislike of people had been growing in her chest for a very long time, she didn't feel able to be around such a huge amount of customers every day. It scared her, but of course she would never admit that. So her protest stayed unfinished. "Why don't you hire a second barista like Sam? I'm not that skilled anyway" she asked instead.

Ricardo smiled weakly. "You spent your first years of life on a coffee plantation, and you have spent a lot time with me. I highly doubt that you have no knowledge about the business." The young Latina laughed at his statement, because it was more than true. Whenever she visited her uncle, he would hardly stop talking about coffee. "You probably know much more than Sam and therefore I trust you a lot more."

Santana's cheeks turned pink. She wasn't used to compliments which were genuine. Sure, people often told her that she was hot and had a great sense of style, but hardly anyone had ever complimented her skills. Most of the time they didn't even believe that she was in law school. and it bothered her a lot. More that she would admit.

"I need you, Santana." Ricardo said and grabbed her at the shoulders to pat them reassuringly. "I am older and I need someone who'll manage my coffee shop the way I do. I can't stay up till all hours anymore, but I have to, because I am the one who does the daily settlement, who locks the doors, who prepares the shop for the next day. I like Sam and I think he's a good employee, but I don't trust him enough to entrust him with these tasks. You're the only one, who would live up to my standards."

Ricardo looked his niece straight in the eye, hoping she would understand, how much he depended on her. "But I'm a lawyer, Ric." She chuckled quietly. "I'd judge your customers by their order and probably scare them away."

Her uncle burst into a loud laughter, showing his sharp lion teeth. "That's the Lopez-gene, that has nothing to do with your studies!" He sniffed and brushed his tears away. "Look, I'm not planning on leaving you the coffee shop... unless you want me to?" The way Santana's eyes widened at this suggestion told him that she didn't like this thought at all. "Calm down, kiddo. I'm not going to die soon. And besides, I'm already looking for potential purchasers. I just need you for the transition time. I can't do this all on my own anymore."

She sighed loudly and rubbed her temples. "I'm not sure, Ric. It sounds awesome, but I gotta think about it." Ricardo nodded.

"I understand, Santana. I mean, I kind of assaulted you with my idea... but please, come to a decision within the next few days."

"Yeah, yeah... I will." He raised his hand to pinch at her cheek and smiled happily at her.

"Great. And now, let's have lunch. I'm starving."

* * *

An hour later Santana had left her uncle and was on her way home. The blizzard had gotten worse, so she found that she had to cover her face with her scarf as she walked outside. The sharpness of the frost hurt her cheeks, but this time she couldn't ignore it. Too many thoughts ran through her head, causing questions and doubts, sometimes even unpleasant feelings. She didn't feel she was able to be a barista, she was afraid of disappointing her family. Of course she trusted her uncle's judgement. He knew her almost better than her parents did, but she also was aware of the fact that her family was wrong about her in many ways, especially when it came to her private life. However, she didn't have the courage to correct them, therefore she had lived with these insecurities her whole life. And now it seemed like they somehow crawled back into her mind unknowingly.

When she finally arrived at her apartment, she hesitated a moment and didn't turn the key immediately. Her roommate was probably at home and she wasn't in the mood for dealing with his inappropriate comments. Her clothes were soaked, her hair was a mess- and she was glad there was no mirror, which no doubt showed her how bad her make-up looked. She eventually twisted her key, after all, she couldn't stay outside in the cold with her wet clothes; so there was no way around greeting him.

As the door swung open, her roommate stuck his head instantly out of his room. "You look horrible." he stated, making Santana roll her eyes. Yup, this was what she had expected.

"Really thank you, Puck. I look like shit, I feel like shit. I already know that, you don't have to tell me." she snapped and shut the door. "And if I glued a dead squirrel onto my head like you did, I'd probably look so much better after being outside in this fucking snowstorm."

"Wo-ho-ho, calm your tits, Santana. I didn't mean to offend you." Puck said frowning, touching his Mohawk protectively with his hand. "Did something happen? You seem upset."

"None of your business." The young woman took of her coat and slipped out of her shoes, a small puddle had formed around her feet. The clammy clothes stung on her skin and she couldn't wait to get into the bathroom to take a long and hot shower. And to get out of his sight.

"Well, it is my business when you take it out on me." When she didn't respond, he sighed heavily and got out of his room. Slowly he walked over to her. "How did your meeting with your uncle go?"

Santana ran with her fingers through her damp hair and bit nervously down on her bottom lip. "Actually it was pretty great."

"Buuuut?" he asked raising an eyebrow, following her with his eyes as she disappeared in the kitchen to get some paper towels. She came back frowning, trying to find the right words.

"He puts a lot pressure on me. You know, he has his coffee shop, but he doesn't feel well enough to keep it for another couple years. He's already looking for a successor, he even asked me in a way, if I wanted to inherit it, but I can't. I am a lawyer and not someone who wants to count roasted coffee beans every goddamn morning" she explained while drying the floor. Puck chuckled quietly at the image, but stopped instantly, when she shot a glare at him. He raised his hands, letting her continue. "So, instead he asked me if I could work for him. To support him at least. As a barista or a waitress or whatever. He would pay me, I'd have flexible working hours... It sounds awesome, but I don't think I can handle that."

Puck looked puzzled. "Why?"

Santana got up from the floor and looked him into the eyes. "Because I've never been a barista?" she said, as if the answer was obvious.

"You have never been a chamber-maid either. And still you're working in a hotel" he argued. "I dunno, I think you really should consider accepting his offer. Or do you really wanna keep on scraping sperm stains away?"

The woman grimaced in disgust at this memory. "Thank you for the reminder."

"You're welcome!" he laughed and pulled her into a tight embrace, even though she was dripping wet. "And besides, it would be such a huge chance for you to get to know some people. I have this feeling that I'm your only friend, and that seems kinda sad."

"Actually that was the second reason why I didn't say yes then and there. I hate people and you know that" she sighed and closed her eyes. "I love working on my own. In hotel rooms I can hate and judge people for their conquests as much as I want without worrying about consequences."

"You know that the customers in your uncle's coffee shop are probably different from the sex-crazed guys in the hotel? Santana, being in contact with people isn't that bad. Look at me, I have a lot of people around me and I'm happy." Santana snorted.

"Because you sleep with most of them."

Puck hummed in response. "That could be true. Maybe you'll find a reputable fuck buddy there too." Santana moaned in annoyance and pushed him off her. "What?" he grinned and slapped her ass, when she turned away to head into her room. "Actually I don't understand why I haven't seen any guys in here for ages. You're way too hot to live a life in chastity."

"Well, there are many things you don't understand" she said sneering and grabbed her purse from the floor. "Perhaps I'm not just a whore like you. Simple as that."

"Ouch, that hurt." he pouted and faked a sniffle, but Santana didn't even consider changing her tone.

"Yeah, the truth can hurt. But at least I'm honest with you. And I am fucking hilarious. So I don't care." she shrugged as she stood in the door frame of her room. Puck mirrored her smirk while offering her his raised middle finger. "Mature, Puck. I really don't get why so many girls have a thing for you." She crossed her arms and shook slightly her head, trying to fight her smile.

"Never heard of the Puckasaurus charm?" Santana burst into a loud laughter and pointed at him.

"So this thing on your head is not a hairstyle but a crista? I'm sorry that I've always been wrong about it!"

"You know what?" he shouted whilst smiling, "Go, take a shower and fuck yourself, while I'mma get some pussy now."

"Sure." she winked and watched him, still laughing, as he put his jacket on and searched for his keys. When he finally found them in another coat, he took a last glance at Santana.

"And while I am not at home, you'll think about your uncle's offer. Your stories about used condoms you find underneath pillows disgust me."

Santana nodded and turned her head away shamefully. She knew that Puck didn't mind these stories, actually he found them really entertaining, but she knew that he was aware how much she hated her job. He cared a lot about her and she was beyond thankful for it, even though he had hard times with finding appropriate comforting words. And by telling her, how disgusting he found her stories, he reminded her that she was the one, who was unhappy, that it was her chance to change something about it. His ways were strange, but they worked and that was everything that counted. She felt lucky to call Puck her best friend.

"Yeah, will do." she sighed quietly and leaned against the door frame.

"Awesome. See you later, bitch."

And there was the next inappropriate comment that made her stomach churn.

_Bitch._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:

...and here we go again. :) It took a bit longer to upload the second chapter than I had expected, but jeez.. who thought finals and oral exams could be such bitches. In return for waiting so long and writing reviews, this chapter is longer than I actually planned and I hope you guys will enjoy it as much as I did. :)  
Special thanks to Kaishei, who agreed to become my Beta.

Have fun and and don't forget to leave reviews, so that I can improve my writing. :)

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

The following days passed way too quickly. The blizzard was dying down and things were going back to their normal run. Except for Santana. As the watch hands moved, the weight on her shoulders seemed to grow more and more. She paced in her room like a restless tigress caught in a small cage who was waiting for something to happen. She needed a sign, or rather an incident, which would tell her how to decide. But even three days after showing up at her uncle's place nothing special had occurred. And so she stayed clueless and became slowly but surely more insecure. She was almost about to call Ricardo to refuse his offer, well, things actually worked out and a change wasn't _that_ necessary, screw the sperm stains, when she realized that it was almost 5 pm. And she had to go to work.

Her eyes widened in shock, because she knew she'd be late. Santana ran across her room and searched for her working clothes, but since it was comparable to a rummage table from summer sale, it took a long time until she had finally found them. Quickly she slipped into her blouse and her short skirt, hating them for being so light, and put her makeup on.

The first time she had gotten into her outfit for work she had wondered why she had to look so saucy for tidying rooms and doing the laundry. Well, she had found an answer later that day. Obviously the hotel she was working in wasn't well known for its excellent service, but for the cheap rooms people could rent by the hour. And that explained, why she always had to work so late, most of the rooms needed to be prepared in the evening and were mainly left the same night. At the beginning Santana had been content with her job and its conditions. Most of her classes took place in the morning, so her work schedule fitted perfectly, but the more often the young woman encountered the shady guests, the more uncomfortable she had felt there. Especially when the one or two hands found their way to her ass.

But never mind, she had to leave.

* * *

As she had expected, she was late. The snow slush made the sidewalk extremely slippery and Santana had to balance to stop herself from falling multiple times. Her cheeks were glowing with adrenaline and anger and every curse word imaginable surrounded her face in a cloud of breath. She hated this day and it got even worse when she spotted Finn Hudson, the co-manager of the hotel, right in front of the entrance smoking. The way he leaned against the brick wall and blowing his smoke into the air lead unknowing people to believe that he was an powerful and important man, but Santana knew better. In fact he was just the manager's gopher, who had no notion of hotel business. He was easy to manipulate, since he was, as far as she was concerned, nothing but dumb and useless. And not to forget; absolutely annoying.

When she was only a couple of steps away from him, he turned his head into her direction and a sneering grin formed on his lips.

"You're late, Lopez." he noted and flicked his cigarette away. Santana had stopped counting the number of times she had already rolled her eyes that day.

"If you had even a single active brain cell somewhere in your huge unnecessary head, you would understand that a salted sidewalk would make it easier for your employees to get to work. But no, rather save some money and risk a broken neck!" Santana said, riled up and nearly slipping again. The co-manager just laughed at her and turned away to go inside, not even considering to help her.

"Don't blame the snow for your lacking ability to walk in high heels."

"Don't blame me for shoving these heels right up your ass" she grumbled under her breath, as she followed the tall brunette man inside, but it seemed as if he hadn't listened to her. Hudson crossed the lobby and disappeared into one of the squealing elevators. He would probably carry out the only real task he got, bothering the chamber-maids while examining their work. So Santana was actually pleased about her delay, at least she wouldn't have to deal with his redundant comments about how to make a bed correctly, although people would churn it up a few hours later and therefore didn't care about it anyway.

Santana greeted the receptionist with a glance, before she made her way to the hotel manager's office. She was already coming up with excuses for her missed working time, when she heard him talking on the phone. The door with the inscription 'Will Schuester – Hotel Management' hung ajar and allowed the young Latina to pick up a few snatches of his conversation. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard to miss hearing his over soft voice, when it was yet so quiet in the corridor.

"_...yeah, I understand... the weather... the weather... but look, they have to arrive soon. The season begins in three weeks and I really don't want to have a loss of profit. And the guests are already asking..._"

Santana knitted her brow. What 'season' was he talking about? Christmas would be in three weeks, but that meant the end of the sales season and the last days of the holidays, so actually Schuester had no reason to expect a large profit. He would have a loss one way or another, his assumption didn't make any sense. Unless he had done the financial planning with Hudson, then of course it did make sense.

"_Uhm... yes? You know I have to promote them, otherwise- ...No, no, no, of course I didn't do it publicly, that would be idiotic. I only told the regular guests, they really can't wait to see the girls._"

"What...?" she whispered to herself and moved closer to the door.

"_I hope they're as hot as you promised, I really don't want to disappoint their future clients... Huh? Of course I trust you, it's just that... you know, beauty is in the eye of the beholder._"

Schuester laughed at his own statement, while Santana stood with an expression of shock and disgust on her face in front of his office. Covering her mouth with her hand, she forced herself to stay quiet. Did she understand him right? Was he talking about... prostitutes? She had never thought of the manager as a fine man, but that idea that he dealt with the red-light district was, even for his standards, unbelievable.

"_I'll take you up on that... What? Yeah, sure. The rooms will be prepared by the end of the week. So I can expect them to come here-... Oh, next week? Hm, okay. Yeah, I'm sure they're worth the wait... Haha, that's true. Look, I gotta make some other phone calls. I'll call you as the week progresses, okay?... will do. Bye!_"

Santana heard Schuester putting down the receiver. She still couldn't believe what she had just overheard. Her heart was about to jump out of her rib cage and her stomach felt suddenly incredibly tight. As a law student, she knew that his plans were most likely pretty illegal and dangerous for everyone who was involved with them. And Santana was kind of involved, she was... _a secret confidant. Oh God. _She needed to get out of here. But as soon as she turned on her heels to tiptoe back to the lobby, the office door creaked open and the manager appeared behind her.

"Miss Lopez? What are you doing here?" Santana clenched her eyes shut and searched frantically for an answer. Yeah, what was she actually doing here? Slowly she turned around, trying to look as confident as possible.

"Mr. Schuester! I... um, I actually wanted to talk to you about... stuff, but you seemed busy... so, never mind I'll just..."

"No, what is it? I have a few minutes" he interrupted her, eyeing her sceptically. He took a step closer to her, but Santana didn't dare to move. She didn't want to show him her anxiety she felt right now, so she squeezed her fingers to calm herself down and looked him straight in the eye. She could do this, she could get out of this... flophouse. This was the sign, the incident she needed.

"Okay..." she said calmly and nodded. "First of all, I just wanted to give an excuse as to my delay. The snow, you know."

"It's okay, you can rework your missed working time."

"Thank you, I'll do that tonight, but there's more to come. I... This will be my last working day. You'll receive my resignation within the next days." Mr. Schuester raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. Santana had the feeling that he felt caught. Well, he was, but she couldn't let him know.

"How come?" he asked licking his lips nervously. Even if he was the manager and had his nose poked into sex trade, he wasn't good at giving authority.

"Family business." she shrugged and smiled sweetly at him. Immediately Schuester relaxed and the tension between them seemed to fade away.

"Okay, then... I guess it can't be helped. Just make sure we get your working clothes back."

"Of course, Mr. Schuester."

"Then... Good luck, Miss Lopez. You will need it." With these words he locked his office and left her alone in the ice-cold corridor. Santana felt relieved and scared at the same time. Even though he didn't seem to know about her eavesdropping, his words sounded like a threat. She shivered, but she told herself that it was from the cold. Her concerns were ridiculous, that's what she told herself anyway.

* * *

She hadn't truly realized what she had signed up for until the day she put on that ugly brown apron. Santana stood in front of the mirror of the small staff room, already hating her new gear. She turned to the right, she turned to the left... she looked fat. But the worst part of this look wasn't even the apron, no, it was _the cap_. That stupid cap with that silly appliqué of a smiling coffee bean. When she had seen it for the first time, and that was years ago, she thought it looked adorable, but now that she had to wear it herself; she just wanted to hide in one of those jute sacks and never come out again.

"Are you ready, Santana?" she heard a voice asking behind her. She exhaled in resignation and nodded.

"Yeah, I think so" she answered quietly. "God, Tío, why did you choose such a ridiculous get-up?" Her uncle locked his eyes with hers in the mirror and couldn't stop himself from giggling at her whining sound.

"People love it, they think the bean is funny."

"I don't think they laugh about that creepy ass bean, but about you and how you look in this... rag." Ricardo laughed even louder.

"Stop complaining, Sobrina. Not everyone is blessed with such a beauty like you, you could probably wear a trash bag and you'd still look good." he said proudly, observing her still sceptical expression. When she didn't answer him, he came closer and grabbed carefully her hand. It seemed so small and wispy in his huge palm. "Come on, let's go. I'll show you the most important things. Sam will help you with the rest."

"Ugh, fine." she grumbled and let him lead her out of the room. She had never felt so pathetic before.

* * *

It was already in the early evening hours when Santana had finally found out how the coffee machine worked. And it was pointless by that time. The room cleared gradually and new arrivals ordered anything but coffee. It was frustrating, she stood awkwardly behind the bar, trying to find a task and to be helpful, but Sam had everything in control and didn't even seem stressed. He had been behind the register for hours and he still had this shiny, toothy grin on his enormous mouth, she just couldn't understand how he could handle that. She hadn't done anything productive yet and she was about to lose it.

Sighing, she decided to clean the room. There were napkins and wrappings spread all over the floor and crumbs cluttered on some coffee tables. Eating cookies and cakes slices without crumbs seemed to be a hard task it appeared. Santana grabbed a wet rag and went over to the tables. Somehow her job hadn't really changed. As a chamber-maid she had to clean and now she didn't do anything else. But of course crumbs and napkins weren't as disgusting as used condoms. Or pubic hair. Ugh.

Only a few tables were taken, so Santana could busy herself for a while. She was glad that the customers ignored her most of the time, but when she accidentally knocked over a sugar shaker and its content scattered over the floor, a few of them giggled at her clumsiness. "Puta madre..." she cursed and glared into the direction from where she could hear the laughter. It eventually died down and a lopsided grin appeared on her lips. She may wear a ridiculous outfit, but she still had this threatening affect on people, and that felt great.

After removing the mess she had created, she spotted a coffee table she had never noticed before in the corner of the venue right next to the bar. She walked over to it and was looking for any kind of dirt that was waiting for being eliminated, but the table and even the floor around it was spotlessly clean. It looked almost untouched. The dark haired woman was surprised by that, because this place offered the customer a view over the whole room and thanks to the large windows even a view over the street and therefore it should have been quite popular. She eyed the table more precisely and discovered a reserved sign.

"Sam?" she called, looking at him over her shoulder. "Why is this table reserved?" The blonde man smiled at her and somehow Santana was already annoyed by that. His trouty mouth made his smile even more eye-catching and she just couldn't bear his good mood anymore. Trouty Mouth, that would be an awesome nickname. She should keep that in mind.

"It always is, never heard of Brittany?" Santana narrowed her eyes and shook her head. "Oh, okay. I thought Ric had mentioned her."

"No, unless one of the coffee variants is called Brittany, then he might has talked about her." Sam laughed about her sarcasm and leaned forward to support himself on the bar.

"Brittany is our regular customer." he explained staring at a few beans that were scattered over the shelf space. "It's like... she owns this table. Whenever she comes in, she sits down there, gets a cup of coffee and works. She loves this place and so it's always reserved for her."

Santana thought about it for a moment. "And... how often does she come in per week? I mean, I haven't seen anyone sitting here all day."

"Depends, mostly just twice I guess."

"What?" she exclaimed pointing at the table with her hand. "She buys a coffee two times a week and it's reserved for her all the time? That's just... Jeez, Ric must be insane, this table is worth a mint!"

"Yeah, it is." Sam agreed nodding. "But Brittany has proved herself valuable."

"How so?"

"She's responsible for our promotion. You gotta know, she's quite a successful journalist and she usually only writes about interesting and important events, but we have a kind of deal with her. As a return for reserving that table for her she writes a short article about 'La Planta' from time to time or designs new projects with us. It's a win-win situation." Sceptically Santana pursed her lips and tilted her head.

"Really? Does it work?" she asked, walking back to her spot behind the bar. Sam snorted with laughter and watched her rinsing off the rag. She shot him a glare, but unlike Puck he didn't stop laughing. Oh, he still had to learn his lesson. "What's so funny, Trouty Mouth?" Her voice was filled with a subtle menacing sound, but Sam didn't react to it. Whether he hadn't noticed or decided to ignore it, she wasn't sure. He didn't even show a reaction to his new nickname and that bothered her a bit.

"Nothing." he said with a friendly smile and shook slightly his head. "It's just... Brittany is the best writer I have ever met. I can't believe you have never heard of her before, because if someone can reach people with words, it's definitely her. So of course it works." Santana sniffed at him unconvinced. "You should read some of her articles, they're gorgeous."

"Wow, are you trying to get into her pants?" she grimaced, annoyed, whilst drying off her hands with her apron. "Your swooning is disgusting. Almost as disgusting as your everlasting good mood."

Sam blushed and licked his lips. "Uhm, no..." he giggled shyly. "She's really pretty though. But she doesn't talk to anybody here, unless it's about our promotion, so..."

"Great!" Faking enthusiasm, she eyed the last few customers at the back of the room. "There will be at least _one person, _who won't get on my poor nerves."

"You'll get used to it, believe me.", The blonde winked and turned away to greet a man, who had just entered the coffee shop.

"You'll get used to it..." she sniped at him behind his back. "You'll get used to it my ass!" Groaning, she started cleaning the bar. Somehow she had the feeling that it was the only job she was good at.

* * *

On her third day Santana was completely involved in the working routine, but that didn't mean things went off without a hitch. Actually the coffee shop was a complete mess and she couldn't do anything about it. The venue was crowded, the line in front of the register didn't seem to find an end and every table except for one was taken. It was Wednesday afternoon, midday rush, and people went crazy. The young Latina stumbled through the crowd, trying to take the customers' orders. A few men stepped on her toes, a woman bumped into her and yet another one being in a hurry pushed her harshly out of her way, but no one even considered to apologize. "Don't go to the yelling place... Don't go to the yelling place..." she mumbled to herself, trying to keep herself cool and collected. Insulting customers wouldn't have been very profitable, even if they deserved it.

After getting back to her place behind the bar, breathing heavily, she skipped through her notepad and read the orders. Most of the people had ordered the Puerto Rican coffee variant, since it had become the signature feature of 'La Planta'. Santana smiled mildly, recalling memories of the coffee plantation and her childhood in Puerto Rico. The warm sunlight grazing her mother's mocha skin, when they had played hide and seek between the coffee trees. The smell of freshly roasted beans, whenever she had been in her uncle's house to visit her cousins. Sometimes she missed these days, but at the same time she was proud of her family and the long way they had taken to get to where they were today.

"Is that a smile?" she heard Sam ask and immediately her frown returned.

"Shut it, don't you have to take care of some patrons or something?" she tried to fob him off, but Sam stayed focused on her.

"I'd like to, but the PRBs are running out. Could you go and get two bags?"

PRBs was the short form of 'Puerto Rican Beans'. Santana became accustomed to the 'coffee shop slang' quickly, since she was used to committing new terms to memory everyday thanks to law school. At least something worked out at the first go. She nodded, sighing, and hurried into the storage room, where they kept the bags. It was dimly lit and so it took her a few minutes, until she had found the right variant. The bags were heavier than she had expected and suddenly she understood why her uncle couldn't keep working so much anymore. Carrying them must have been a torture for him and his back.

When she returned with the coffee bags, she panted heavily. Sam noticed her and rushed over to her in an instant. "You were supposed to carry one, not two at a time" he frowned, relieving Santana of them.

"Why? Because I'm a woman?" she wanted to snap, but failed, since she was still gasping for air. Leaning against the counter, she blew her bangs out of her face.

"Because I'm sure that you're not heavier than 120 pounds. Ricardo weighs twice as much and still his back isn't strong enough." Instead of answering Santana rolled her eyes, not willing to admit that he was actually right. Sam smirked playfully at her, while he refilled the coffee machine with beans.

Once it was put back into action, the situation cooled down. The coffee shop cleared slowly and made it easier for her to bring the customers' orders to their tables. She was exhausted, but the decreasing noise level and the friendly thank-you's she gained raised her spirits again. She sighed relieved when the midday rush was finally over and she had a moment to collect herself and to take a breath. She wondered, how she was supposed to survive this every day. Cringing at the thought, she turned from the window away and spotted again the reserved table. But this time it was taken.

Suddenly she felt incredibly tense and her hands got sweaty. Again her doubts and insecurities crept back into her mind, increasing the pace of her heartbeat. This woman was very important for her uncle and his business and that meant: If she messed up right now, she would damage him and 'La Planta' in a great measure. She wanted to ask Sam, if he could take care of her, but he was still busied with some customers at the bar. Santana swallowed hard and straightened her apron, hoping she didn't look too messy.

The woman was crouched behind her laptop and seemed to be absorbed in her work, so that she couldn't catch sight of her face. Santana took out her notepad and tucked a strain of hair behind her ear, her mouth became dry. She cleared her throat to draw her attention to her, but she still stared at the screen without interruption.

"Excuse me, Miss? May I take you or- oh."

Brittany hadn't seen her coming, she hadn't even noticed her presence. Hearing her voice confused her even more, since no one had ever dared to talk to her when she was working. The blonde woman looked up and was as surprised as the waitress. That was the woman she had seen with Ricardo about a week ago. Santana Lopez. She still had her name in her mind, or rather she still had the napkin, on which she had scribbled her name to google it later on. But Santana didn't have to know that, that would seem stalkerish. She smiled coyly at her and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Santana was startled. Sam had told her that Brittany was pretty, but she hadn't expected to meet such a young beauty. When Brittany had raised her head and locked her gaze with Santana's, she had absolutely caught her off guard and every word she had wanted to say was forgotten. Her sky blue eyes twinkled in a way she had never seen before and soaked her completely in. And there was something about her smile that made her even more nervous. When Brittany said "Hi" Santana snapped back into reality finally, still dazed and mesmerized. Oh God, had she been staring at her?

"Hi, sorry... I... er" she began, still not knowing what to say.

"I guess you're the new barista?" Brittany asked, saving her from her embarrassing nonsense stuttering and trying to ease the tension, but Santana didn't make it easy for her.

"Yeah, yeah... I am. How do you know?"

Laughing she pointed at her apron. "Your gear. And you just asked me if you could take my order." Santana turned her head away to hide her now crimson cheeks. She giggled awkwardly and nodded. This was so embarrassing.

"Oh yeah, right, I forgot.., sorry, I'm just... kinda confused. This is still so new to me and so overwhelming" she tried to explain.

"Sure, that's understandable. Midday rushes' always a mess, I try to avoid it, if it's possible."

Again, Santana didn't know how to respond. She just smiled at the blonde woman, who constantly smiled back. Neither of them said a word during the next moments and that made Santana feel more and more uncomfortable, especially because Brittany's glancing was so... intense. It made her freeze and melt at the same time, sweating and shuddering.

"I'm Brittany, Brittany Pierce" she said, offering her hand, which Santana took carefully. Her skin was softer and warmer than she had expected and it distracted her even more.

"Ricardo Lopez, Santana's niece." Seeing Brittany trying to hold back a laughter, she noticed what she had said. "Oh my God... I meant Santana. I am Santana, Ricardo's niece."

"Nice to meet you, Santana." Brittany's giggle made her blush even more.

"Nice to meet you, too." Realizing she was still shaking her hand, she swiftly let go of it and got her pen out of her pocket. "So, uhm... what can I get you?"

A small grin appeared on her face, because Brittany knew that she was just trying to avoid another awkward moment between them. Usually Sam brought her a cup of coffee and then she would return to her work, no questions, no orders, that's how it always went. But right now she wasn't in the mood for coffee, the encounter with Santana was exciting enough. Maybe she didn't show it, but she was as nervous as the insecure waitress in front of her.

"Uhm... tea would be awesome." she answered, wetting her lips.

"Which type?"

Brittany chuckled and scrunched her nose. "Surprise me, I'm not really familiar with tea."

Santana smiled politely and made her way back to the bar, where she grabbed a mug and filled it with hot water. Wondering which type of tea would fit to Brittany, she searched through the drawer that contained the tea bags. What about peppermint? Almost everyone liked peppermint. But the longer Santana hold this type in her hand, the more she disliked the idea. It wouldn't be surprising enough. And black tea? No, that was too... formal. Brittany seemed kind and light-hearted, even a bit playful. Thoughtfully she stared into the drawer, tapping the tip of her nose. Fruit tea. She needed a sweet type of fruit tea.

After rummaging through the rest of the tea bags, she finally found the perfect one, raspberry-vanilla. Proudly grinning, she put it into the mug and while the tea was steeping, she decorated the saucer with cookies and sugar cubes. Because she was still afraid of displeasing Brittany, she took pains to make it flawless. From time to time she took a peek at her table, just to catch her leering every time. At least her glimpses appeared leering. Santana's face felt hot and she knew it wasn't because of the warmth of the coffee machine or the heating.

Wheezing, she took the tea and walked back to Brittany, who watched grinning every step she made. "Here you go." Santana smiled and placed the cup next to her laptop. "It's raspberry-vanilla, I hope that's-"

"Sounds yummy! And it already smells amazing. Thank you so much!" the young journalist interrupted her and lost no time to sweeten the hot drink with the sugar cubes. "Uhm, could you do me a favour? Could you get me some more of these cookies?"

"Yeah, sure." Santana was a bit staggered by her talkativeness, since Sam had claimed she wouldn't talk to anybody, unless it was about promotion or an upcoming article. But well, she didn't mind, Brittany seemed really nice after all.

"Hey, Santana. Could you bring Brittany her coffee?" Sam asked, when she pushed past him. Instantly she stopped and frowned at him.

"I already attended her." Now it was Sam's turn to be surprised.

"What? Oh God, Santana. That's rule number one: Never disturb Brittany." He peeked over his shoulder and saw her watching them while sipping her tea. "Is she... Is she pissed?"

"I don't think so, she was actually very friendly to me" she told him and turned away to get the demanded cookies for the young blonde.

"Really? That's... incredible. Whenever I tried to talk to her, she just glared at me."

"Maybe she just doesn't like your haircut, Biebs. She isn't twelve anymore, you know." Santana snorted and ruffled his hair, slowly heading back to Brittany with a plate in her hand. He shook his head in disbelief and grabbed the dirty dishes to disappear with them into the storage room.

Brittany was already waiting for the young waitress and welcomed her with a cheerful smile. Whispering a thank-you, she accepted the plate gladly and placed it on her lap. Santana backed off and bit guiltily her lip. "I, uhm.. I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to interrupt your work earlier."

"It's fine. No need to apologize" she said chewing on a cookie. "I needed a break anyway." Santana became aware of her narrow chin, which was cluttered with crumbs. Brittany looked so adorable, she just wanted to brush over her jaw line with her thumb and free her from the crumbs so that she could see her flawless, angelic face again. But Brittany then licked her lips and wiped with the back of her hand over her chin, interrupting Santana's thoughts. She sighed relieved, and slouched her shoulders.

"Oh, okay. That's... awesome. It's just that Sam told me-" she paused, when Brittany motioned her to stop.

"Forget what he said, he tends to overdramatize everything." The way the blonde rolled her eyes made Santana laugh.

"Yeah, I already picked up on that, too. He almost freaked out, when he saw me carrying two of the coffee bags."

Brittany chuckled softly. "I am sorry to say that, but I have to agree with him. You're wispy."

"Hey, just because I'm short doesn't mean I'm too weak to handle the job!" she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "But fuck, I didn't think it would be so damn exhausting."

"So that means I'll see you here more often?" Brittany asked with an excited curiosity, after licking her index finger clean. Santana's eyes widened at this sight and wondered, if she had done that on purpose. Her glinting eyes seemed so innocent, but the short flash in her eye revealed her mischievous nature. It was definitely planned.

"I-I-I... yeah, I think so" she stuttered nervously, still unsure about how to act in front of her. "I can't leave my uncle alone, you know?"

"Ah, you'll enjoy it here soon. Trust me." Brittany winked. The blush on Santana's face gave her embarrassment away, which the journalist found more than amusing.

'_This could get interesting.'_ she thought with a smile. _'Really interesting.'_


	3. Chapter 3

A/N:  
...aaaand finally my 3rd chapter is up. :) Unfortunately it always takes a long time to update my fic, thanks to driving lessons and my desperate attempt to get a social life, but the 4th chapter is almost finished and will be published at the end of July. Please leave some reviews and give me some feedback, especially about my language, since I am not one of those lucky people, whose first language is English. Sniff.  
Anyway, enjoy it. :) And again: Special thanks to my lovely beta!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

* * *

"You 'ook an' mell 'ike a 'ombie" Puck said as he chewed, flicking a piece of pancake at Santana, who sat across from him in their living room. She lay with her head on the table, hiding her face behind her crossed arms, as if she were trying to hide from Puck... New York... the entire world. When the piece of pancake hit her forehead, she peeked over her sleeve and shot him a menacing glare. It was way too early to deal with his childish shit.

"Don't provoke me, Noah" she hissed, knowing using his real forename would enhance her threat. Puck tilted his head and eyed her worriedly. Although Santana had never been an early-morning person, she was, even for her standards, extremely bad-tempered today. Not even her cup of coffee had risen her mood and that was more than unusual. He offered her his pancakes, but as soon as he shoved his plate over the table, she just smacked his hand; maybe a bit too hard, and turned her head away so that he was facing her messy bun.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked sighing, but the only answer he got was an angry growl. "Okay, I'll just leave you alone then."

Once Puck had left the room to dress himself, Santana sat up and pinched the skin between her eyebrows. Her roommate was right; she didn't only look and smell like a zombie, she also felt like one. The day before had been an absolute disaster and had strained her enormously, her body was aching in a way she had never experienced before. She had already taken an aspirin, but neither the burning pain in her muscles nor the pounding in her head was about to fade away. Maybe she would have felt better if she had been able to sleep during the night.

Santana exhaled loudly and cupped her mug softly with her hands. Its heat still pervaded the ceramic and flooded through her skinny fingers, warming at least a bit of her shivering body. Vacantly she stared into the dark liquid and chewed on her bottom lip. The stress wasn't the only reason why she was so moody. In fact, it didn't even bother her as much as the encounter with Brittany did. She had made a fool of herself, shown her insecurities, had been dumbfounded. In front of everyone else. But what bothered her the most was that she had no clue why she had acted like that. As if she had forgotten how to control herself.

No one had ever seen her like that; speechless, nervous and embarrassed. No one. She had always been the strong and independent girl, who kept everyone at distance with her sharp tongue, was well-respected thanks to her threatening glares and her toned, sexy body. No one had ever dared to come too close to her, let alone to lay a finger on her. She was like a tank; powerful, frightening and straightforward, but at the same time protecting what it contained inside. That was how it always worked and how she liked it best.

And then there was this Brittany girl. With this flawless smile. And these deep blue, shining eyes. And not to forget her soft, pale skin. How was someone as beautiful and kind as her able to make her stumble without even doing anything? She hadn't seemed like a woman who cared about possessing power and when Santana had talked to her, she hadn't had the desire to make their power relations clear. There was nothing threatening about Brittany, but she still had this influence on her and it was terrifying. It made her stomach tingle in a strange way and she wasn't quite sure, what she should think about it.

* * *

"Don't you have classes today?"

Santana turned in her chair and saw Puck in his tracksuit standing in the door frame, ready to leave for his sports training. "Yeah, I have. Gotta leave in an hour." Puck nodded and grabbed his gym bag from the floor, not wanting to bother her with more questions. She knew that an excuse was in order, since she hadn't been fair to him earlier. "Puck-" she called, when he was about to head out of the apartment. He stopped and looked at her with a puzzled expression. "I.. I'm sorry. Didn't mean to bawl you out."

"Oh my God. What have they done to you?" he asked, shocked, and covered his mouth with his hands dramatically. "That's the proof, you are a zombie. The real Santana would never apologize."

"Get the fuck out of here!" she yelled and threw one of the remaining pancakes at him, but Puck was too fast. She failed and the pancake hit the slammed door instead. He was laughing on the other side, making her even angrier than she already was. "Prepare your poor ass for tonight, 'cause I'll go all Lima Heights on it!"

Honestly, Santana didn't know if she would act on her threats later that day. After all she could hardly move and she doubted that the pain would disappear any time soon. She closed her eyes again and took in a deep breath. This would be a long, long day.

* * *

Fortunately her shift started in the afternoon, when the midday rush was already over. She still felt more dead than alive, but since she had survived the first half of the day at university, she would probably be able to get through the rest of it at the coffee shop, even if it took a lot of her will power. Ricardo had noticed her exhaustion the second she had come in, hugging her with a sympathetic smile. "It will get better." he had cooed, but Santana was still wary about his words.

Although the venue was almost empty and there wasn't much to do, her uncle had insisted on staying with her to lighten her workload. Because he had already worked with Sam in the morning, she had tried to decline his offer, not wanting to strain him more than necessary. Ricardo had laughed half-heartedly at her argument and told her something about the Lopez stubbornness, that a real Lopez would always stick to their guns, and Santana had known by then that further discussions would be pointless.

The young woman returned from the storage room and carried a basket of washed dishes. It wasn't as heavy as the coffee bags, but she didn't complain when Ricardo took it off her hands and placed it onto the counter. While they polished the silverware and put the dishes away, they worked in a comfortable silence. Besides the usual chatter in the background, the slow melody Santana was humming was the only sound that filled the room and it made Ricardo pause to take a look at her. A proud smile appeared on his lips.

"You and Maribel are so much alike, it's almost scary" he said, making his niece blush. "Oh, and speak of your mother; she called me yesterday."

Instantly Santana stopped humming and turned around. "What did she say?"

"Don't worry, Santana. She just told me that she and your papà will spend Christmas with us. Or aren't you fine with that?"

Santana shook her head and continued sorting the silverware, suddenly very quiet and thoughtful. "No, it's fine, actually great. I haven't seen them for months."

"Yeah, that's what she also told me" pausing, he walked over to her and squeezed her shoulder to get her attention. "She said she hardly gets a hold of you, she's worried to death, Santana. And so am I. You are... different lately. So... distant."

"I know.." Santana furrowed her brow. "Law school is a bitch at the moment." she shrugged and offered him a lopsided smile, which wasn't as convincing as she had wished. Ricardo eyed her skeptically, knowing that she wasn't honest with him. He was about to say something, when the glass door swung open and saved her from his coming lecture and probing. Santana took the chance and fled with the empty basket into the storage room, hoping that her uncle would forget the unpleasant topic, while he was held up with the new customer and she was out of his sight.

"Oh, good afternoon, Brittany!" she heard him greeting through the closed door and all of a sudden she regretted that she had left the room. Brittany was back. Even though this woman was able to evoke these strange and terrifying feelings deep inside her stomach, she wanted to get to know her. She was different from the rest of people she had to deal with everyday, different in a positive, refreshing way. But remembering yesterday's encounter with her, the pace of her heartbeat sped up incredibly and made her feel a bit lightheaded. And there was her nervousness again, returning with glowing cheeks and sweaty hands. Maybe she should just stay in the storage room until Brittany was gone and try to talk with her another time, when she would be back on form.

"Santana!" Ricardo then called, pushing the door open. Santana jumped and stumbled over the empty basket she had chucked on the ground. Before she could steady herself, she tumbled into a rack and fell onto a stack of jute sacks, fortunately cushioning her sudden fall. "Oh my God, Santana! Are you okay?" he asked and rushed to his cursing niece, the loud crashing sounds still echoing in their ears. The waitress groaned and rubbed her forehead, adrenaline was running through her veins. Quickly, she nodded and reached for her uncle's hand to get back on her wobbly feet.

"Thanks..." she muttered, straightening her apron and rearranging her hair.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You're really okay?" Santana nodded again to assure him that she was fine and exhaled to get over the shock. Ricardo waited a moment until she had calmed down, then grabbed her hand and patted the back of it, his excitement back in his eyes. "Anyway, I want you to get to know someone. I am sure you'll like her."

Being dragged back into the venue, she realized her uncle wanted to introduce her to Brittany, who was still standing on the other side of the counter, a mischievous smile gracing her lips. Santana froze in the door frame, as soon as the blonde's appearance caught her eye; she looked even more beautiful than she did in her memory. Brittany wore a black coat, which contrasted perfectly with her clear, pale skin, except for her nose, which was red from the biting cold outside. Her blonde, wavy hair was hidden in a black beanie with cat ears, but still a few strains cascaded her shoulders. Such a hat would have looked ridiculous on every other head, but in Santana's eyes it made Brittany even sweeter and more spectacular than she already was. And then there was her rainbow-colored laptop bag, which was loosely slung over her shoulder. She was so adorable that Santana was left speechless.

"Already falling, hm?" Brittany winked and offered her a toothy grin. Santana blushed and shrugged embarrassed, not knowing how to answer such a suggestive remark in front of her uncle, although he didn't seem to have noticed her innuendo at all. He laughed at Santana's shyness and put an arm around her slim waist to pull her even closer to the counter.

"Tana, this is Brittany, our personal Tinker Bell. Without her, 'La Planta' wouldn't be as successful as it is at the moment."

"Oh, of course!" Brittany agreed self-mockingly. Santana couldn't help giggling, when she actually started clapping her glove-covered hands and fluttered her eyelashes. "Clap for me and I'll make you fly!" Watching her fooling around and not taking herself too seriously made her feel a bit better, less nervous and more confident. After all, Brittany seemed to be a fun person who didn't care about what other people thought of her and so she maybe didn't care about Santana's awkward reactions either.

"But it's the truth!" Ricardo exclaimed, turning to his niece. "Did I tell you that she is an awesome journalist and that-"

"No, you didn't, but Brittany and I already met yesterday" she interrupted him and mirrored Brittany's beaming smile. Raising his eyebrows with surprise, he looked at the tall blonde in front him, who nodded her approval.

"Oh, okay. I didn't know that. Did my niece at least behave well? She can get a bit grumpy from time to time." He smirked and gained a hard slap against his stomach. "I am just kidding, Sobrina." he whispered, before he kissed Santana's flushed cheek. She rolled annoyed her eyes and tried to brush him off, but he strengthened his grip and kept her in his arms. She fidgeted in his embrace, until she could throw a desperate glance at Brittany in search of help, but the young woman just smiled sympathetically at their little private interaction as she shifted restlessly, pushing her weight from one foot to another.

"Don't worry, Ric. Santana is such a sweetheart." she commented with a sweet grin and for a moment Santana could feel her heart flutter. Even though Brittany's wink indicated that she hadn't meant it too seriously, something in her eyes told her that there was some truth behind her words. The young Latina's eyes widened, not because the phone had suddenly started ringing in Ricardo's pocket, but because it was the first time that someone seemed to like her right away; that she herself liked someone right away.

"I know, right?" he laughed and let go of her. "Sorry, I gotta answer that."

He left the young women in the silent venue and when he had closed the door of the staff room behind him, Santana turned her attention back to Brittany. Taking all of her courage, she asked with a coy smile, "Sweetheart, huh?" For a second she thought she had seen Brittany's face redden, but in the next moment it was replaced by the same mischievous expression she had seen the day before.

"Well..." she licked her lips and leaned forward to support herself on the counter, her face just a few inches away from Santana's. The Latina could feel her warm breath tickle her skin, making it hard for her to keep the confidence she had grounded out. "You can prove it, if you get me two coffees to go."

_Two coffees?_ Santana stepped back to distance herself from the blonde and nodded with a forced smile. Of course Brittany would order two coffees; if a woman like her was single, the law of nature wouldn't make sense anymore. How could she even think that Brittany was interested in _her_, a woman, a woman with rage issues and a lacking ability to make friends? Without a proper answer she turned away and worked the coffee machine, hoping that Brittany hadn't seen her frowning.

But Brittany had noticed her sudden mood swing. She chuckled quietly at Santana's reaction and watched her preparing passive-aggressively the paper cups. "Santana," she interrupted her, grinning widely, when their eyes met again. "Could you put some soy milk into one of the cups? _Rachel Berry_ will murder me, if I come up with anything that once belonged to an animal."

Santana scrunched her nose in disgust, but put it in anyway. "Wait, did you say _Rachel Berry_?" she asked curiously and was incredibly relieved, as soon as she realized that the second coffee wasn't for a boyfriend. The journalist smiled, satisfied that Santana had gotten her hint. "Rachel Berry, that singing hobbit from that over-promoted lame ass musical?"

There was a moment of silence, before Brittany asked, straight-faced, "But... can hobbits even sing...?" Seeing the dead serious look in her eyes, Santana burst into a loud laughter. The blonde woman tilted her head in confusion, was even a bit afraid that she was laughing at her, but when she patted the back of hand and coughed 'Oh my God, you're awesome', she knew that Santana didn't mean it badly.

"I...uhm... I honestly don't know." she sniffed, wiping her tears away. "I think, she's the living proof, though. Maybe you should just ask her."

Brittany flashed a smile, "I'd totally do that, but I don't think it would be very helpful, if I posed this question during my interview today."

"You have an interview with _Berry_?"

"Yeah, her manager called my editor last week and asked, if one of her journalists; or rather me; could write a promotional reportage about her and the musical." Brittany shrugged, as if it was no big deal, but Santana couldn't stop staring at her in awe.

"Wow, you're really in great demand, aren't you?" she said as she handed her the filled paper cups. "I mean, they ask for you. I don't think that's how it usually goes. You must be damn good."

"Yeah, maybe... I don't know..." she mumbled quietly, and this time she blushed for real. "Anyway, I should leave. Berry's reported to be very punctual and I shouldn't be late. But-" she paused as she searched for Santana's chocolate-colored eyes. "I'll try to come back, when we're done, okay?"

"Oh, but... you don't have to, I mean, just because-"

"Santana." Brittany interrupted her stammering, waited until she finally fell quiet. "I'd really like to continue our little chat. So I'll see you later?"

The shorter woman nodded. "Probably, I have to stay here until we close." she sighed and rubbed her temples as she remembered her throbbing headaches. "Unless I die sooner."

"Nah, you won't. Yesterday you told me you weren't weak, remember?"

Santana gave her a faint laugh and slouched her shoulders, suddenly finding herself rather ridiculous. "Seems like I am not that good at evaluating myself."

"Aw, poor baby. Perhaps, you should avoid racks, but I'm actually pretty sure that you'll survive it."

Santana sighed again, not knowing if she could be as certain as Brittany was, then looked her straight in the eye. "Wait, did you just call me 'baby'?" she asked astonished, but the blonde just grinned smugly in response, put the money on the counter and grabbed her cups to head out of the coffee shop. "Brittany?"

She was even more dumbfounded, when Brittany actually walked away without saying another word. Instead, she was facing her back. And her butt, her gorgeous butt. Then, for the first time, she noticed her toned legs, which she couldn't seem to find an end to. Santana had to swallow hard. Besides being blessed with a beautiful face with the most mesmerizing eyes she had ever seen, Brittany also seemed to have an amazing body. Obviously nature had meant it well for her.

Licking her lips, her eyes wandered back up to Brittany's head, just to discover that she was looking at her over her shoulder, her grin even wider than before. She had definitely been caught leering. She winked at her and mouthed 'See you later', before she pushed the glass door with her elbow and left the venue. When she was out of sight, Santana let out a breath she hadn't been aware of holding. Once again she had embarrassed herself. But this time it was different, this time.. it didn't feel bad. In fact, she felt rather amused than humbled. Maybe Brittany's impact on her wasn't as threatening as she had feared.

"Brittany's so sweet, isn't she? Though she can be really odd sometimes." Ricardo said as he appeared behind her. Following Santana's gaze, he stared with her through the glass door. The snow had finally stopped falling down, allowing them to watch the happenings in the street.

"Special, Ric." she corrected him, turning around to look into his eyes. "Brittany is special."

And right in this moment, Ricardo could have sworn that he had seen a small smile on Santana's lips. An honest, but most of all a happy smile.

* * *

New York was enwrapped in a sinister darkness, when 'La Planta' was officially closed. Since Ricardo had left his niece alone in the empty venue a few hours earlier, Santana didn't really feel at ease, although it was just after 9. She was tired and lonely, annoyed and confused. Doing the till wasn't as easy as her uncle had promised and cleaning the room took longer than she had expected. And Brittany, she hadn't come back.

"I am so pathetic" she mumbled angry as she swept the last dirt away. She liked Brittany. In fact, she liked her a lot. There were so many reasons why she was so taken with her, that she didn't know which of them was the main one. She had thought about it the rest of the day, tried to find an explanation why she of all people was able to get into her mind, without ever leaving it again. Santana shook her head at herself. She had met Brittany twice. And still she couldn't stop thinking about her.

When the glass door creaked open, the young barista rolled annoyed her eyes and cursed herself for forgetting to lock it. "We're closed!" she yelled without looking up.

"Oh, okay.. sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." This familiar bright voice. Instantly, Santana stopped sweeping and turned around to face the person, who had just entered the room. "Hum, I'll just leave then, have a nice evening, Santana."

"No!" she called, maybe a bit too loudly, when Brittany was almost back outside. The blonde woman froze in her motion and stared at her, startled. "I mean, stay. You can stay."

"Are you sure I don't interrupt you? I really don't want to be treated differently from other people who come in after closing time." Brittany said with a lopsided smile, tightening her grip on the door handle, but Santana just waved her demur away as she headed to her spot and locked the door.

"It's okay, Brittany. I just thought you were one of those drunk hobos, you know."

"Good thing I am neither drunk nor homeless!" she laughed, while she took her beanie and her gloves off. "Ugh, it's so damn cold outside.. I couldn't get a cab, otherwise I would have been here earlier. I am really sorry that it got so late. Berry's such a chatterbox, she just talked non-"

"Okay, hold up." Santana said narrowing her eyes. "Does that mean you _walked_ the whole way?" Of course Brittany must have walked. She was shivering awfully and her ankle boots looked completely soaked from the snow. "Oh my God, are you serious? Jeez, you could have caught a cold! Why didn't you go straight home?" she rebuked, when Brittany nodded.

"I promised you to come back. And you don't have to worry, I'm more than fine." Brittany smiled reassuringly at Santana, since her concerned frown had deepened.

"But now I feel guilty for this.." she whispered, pointing at Brittany's shoes. "Let me get you something to warm you up." She took her carefully by the hand and led her through the room to the bar. The blonde giggled on their way, firstly, because she kept on stumbling, since her feet were still almost numb, secondly, because Santana was acting so stubborn and serious.

"Santana..." she laughed, once she stood at the counter. "Everything's okay, really. I love 'La Planta', I'd even come here, if there was a devastating hurricane outside." Brittany's smile suddenly made space for a sullen frown. "Someone should make them illegal, they are even worse than blizzards. Did you know there was once a hurricane that lasted for over three weeks?"

"Uhm, no, I didn't know that" the barista answered with raised eyebrows as she grabbed two mugs for tea. "But, seriously- I don't understand, how you're still able to bear this place. I've been here four days in a row and I'm about to go nuts."

Brittany gave her a secret smile, as she walked slowly back to the tables. "I see a coffee shop as a magical place." she said softly, eyeing some photos of Puerto Rican coffee plantations on the wall. Santana, not knowing what she was getting at, shrugged and watched her with a crooked smile. "Because it's... like a nodal point in a network of social lives."

"I'm not sure, if I really understand.." the dark-haired woman apologized. "But go on, please. I am listening."

"It's actually pretty easy." Brittany grinned cheerfully and stepped to the centre of the room. "Every day so many different people come in and share a part of their private life with everyone else in here. No one hides or tries to avoid the world, no, in fact, people visit coffee shops to spend their time there, to live. And everyone does it in a different way. Look-" She pointed at the spot underneath her feet. "Some people come in, just because they need a shelter from the rain. Others are in a hurry and need a coffee to go to satisfy their horrible thirst." Santana laughed, when she spurted to one of the group tables. Touching its surface, she continued, "Here, you can see them awaiting and meeting their friends, while some grumpy loners sit in the corners and read their newspapers or watch the happenings around them."

"And you're one of those 'grumpy loners', right?" Santana asked teasingly. The journalist hesitated a moment, before she quirked an eyebrow with a sly smile on her lips, then strode back to the counter, swaying her hips seductively. Again, Santana was unsure about if she did it on purpose or not, but she couldn't deny that she liked the sight. Brittany was sexy and graceful and she definitely knew how to move her body.

Waving at her reserved table, Brittany breathed "Some people work there." She came slowly closer to her, stroked carefully the register. "And some people work here." Santana watched her careering along the bar, trailing with her hand over the edge of the counter. She gasped, when Brittany's cold fingers brushed over the back of her own hand with a delicate touch. "A few of them work on their own, while others are supposed to work together. Some of them become friends..." Stopping right in front of her, she leaned forward, until her lips almost met the shell off her ear. "And still others..." she whispered only for her to hear, "...may fall in love."

She felt like Brittany's voice had licked her ear, leaving it hot and wet. She shivered and her much needed air seemed to be cut off. What the hell was this woman up to? She could go from the picture of innocence to this hot, flirty chick within seconds, as if she just had to flip a switch. Her heart hammered so hard against her chest that she was afraid it would jump out of her rib cage at any moment. And it got even worse, when she realized that Brittany's fingers were still on top of hers, softly caressing her knuckles.

Before Santana could do anything she would probably regret, Brittany twirled in delight, raising her hands in the air. The Latina was so irritated by her sudden change that she almost forgot what just had happened. "I just love it here!" Brittany laughed heartily, once she had stopped spinning. She looked so carefree and happy, everything about her was shining with pure joy and Santana wondered if this was the reason for her ravishing beauty. "The atmosphere, all of these different kinds of people, how everything comes together- it always reminds me why and for who I write. It's an inspiration and motivation at the same time. What could be more magical?"

"I never thought about it that way" Santana mumbled, slightly embarrassed, and put some sugar cubes into Brittany's mug, still trying to shake off the feeling of her breath tickling her skin. "I guess, working here makes me forget, how much I actually like this place."

Brittany gave her an empathic smile and helped her carrying the mugs to her table. "What's so bad about your job?" she asked quietly as she took off her coat. Santana sunk, sighing, into an arm chair and threw her cap on the table.

"It's the people." she growled, while she undid her tight ponytail and ruffled through her dark waves. "As a waitress you're their fucking slave. And do I look like I'd bow down to something or someone I can't stand? That's not how Santana rolls. Nuh-uh."

Brittany laughed at Santana as she attempted to appear 'bad and ghetto' so much, yet her exhaustion was written all over her face. She was rather cute and droll; like a grumpy child. It seemed like Ricardo had apparently been right about her. "Didn't think that it's that bad. Sam always looks so happy when he's working" she grinned, also sitting down, and started stirring her tea.

"He doesn't have this hate-filled relationship with people." Santana explained, looking at her nails to avoid Brittany's eyes, which refused to focus on anything else but her. "And he isn't a bitch, that makes it a lot easier, I guess."

"But you are..?" she asked, after licking her spoon clean. "I mean- Do you think that you're a bitch?"

"Duh, of course I am! Grew up in Bitch Town!" Santana laughed with a touch of bitterness. "Very surprising that you haven't been aware of that yet."

"Probably because you aren't one." Her voice was filled with so much confidence that Santana was completely taken aback at her words. She blinked several times, waited for her certainty to fade away, but even after examining every inch of her face, wrinkle by wrinkle, she couldn't find anything else but pure honesty and kindness.

"I- I'm not?"

"If you were a bitch, you wouldn't be so nice and caring towards me. Or has its definition changed during the last weeks? If so let me know." She took a large sip of her tea and moaned at the feeling of the hot liquid running down her throat. "Oh my... this feels so good!"

Santana stared at her in awe and shook her head with disbelief. "How can you be so sure, Brittany? This is the third time you're talking to me. I mean, people don't call me that for no reason" she whispered and let out an awkward giggle, suddenly she was freezing. She hadn't expected that this topic would affect her so deeply. Brittany sighed and grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly. This time her fingers were warm and soothing, warmed up again by her hot mug. Santana gasped and dropped her eyes shocked to their hands, still not used to her being so touchy-feely and open.

"Hey-" she paused, until she could lock her gaze with Santana's again. Her dark orbits darted nervously from one eye to another, worrying about what would come next. "I am so certain, because I actually _have_ talked to you. Googled you. Seen how much you struggle with yourself and the people around you. I don't think-"

"You did what?" Santana cut her off, laughing. "You _googled_ me?"

Brittany blushed with shame, when she realized what had just slipped out of her mouth. "You... just... you were new here and so interesting and seemed so special and I-I-I needed to get some information about you, but not because I am a creeper, it's just my curiosity and I-"

"Hey, it's okay." she smiled and rubbed with her free hand over Brittany's wrist. "It's a bit weird, but... I'll take it as a compliment."

Instantly, the taller woman relaxed and exhaled relieved, the crimson color slowly disappearing. "I am really sorry, Santana" she whispered, "But what I was trying to say- people who call you a bitch don't do it because you are one. They don't know you and therefore they have no right to make any assumptions. They're probably just scared or jealous or both, because you're so pretty and smart and beyond reach and-"

"Thank you.." Santana said, partly because she liked hearing her compliments, partly because she wanted to stop her from rambling, before it became too embarrassing for both of them.

Still, Santana's cheeks were flushed again and Brittany had to admit that it looked incredibly cute on her. She dropped her gaze to their intertwined hands, loving the feeling of her slender fingers in her palm. She twisted them a bit, so that she could interlock their pinkies. "Anyway," she spoke on, "You really shouldn't believe their words, because they are simply not true. I know, this must sound quite hypocritical, since I don't really know you either; except for my,.. research; but.. I'd like to change that. If it's okay for you."

"I'd like that a lot." Santana's weak smile turned into a bright, happy grin as she watched through her thick eyelashes, how Brittany's expression changed from tensed to joyful and she could have sworn that her beautiful eyes shimmered with even more delight than they usually did.

"You see this?" Brittany asked, raising their interlocked pinkies. "This is a promise; a pinky promise. It means that it comes straight from the heart and can't be broken. And I promise you that I'll be your friend, no matter what."

"This is a very heavy promise, Britt. Are you sure-"

"Too late" she laughed, tightening the grip around the Latina's finger. "Our pinkies are already interlocked. So there is no going back."


End file.
